


Old Habits Die Hard

by fragments_and_pieces



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragments_and_pieces/pseuds/fragments_and_pieces
Summary: Being Max's parent is a work in progress.





	Old Habits Die Hard

**Author's Note:**

> The dadvid au is just too good. Enjoy! Also don't come near this fic if you ship maxvid.

David’s eyes blink open to the darkness of his room. He rolls over and squints at the harsh light of his alarm clock. 3:07 am. He moves onto his back, arms spread out to his sides, staring up at the silhouette of his ceiling fan spinning slowly. After a few moments, he finally sits up and swings his legs over the side of his bed, yawning as he stands and stumbles towards his bedroom door to head to the bathroom, the reason he’d woken up in the first place.

 

As he shuffles down the hall, he slows in front of Max’s cracked door. Max had been living with him for just over a month now. After the incident on Parents’ Day, David went through the long and difficult process of getting Max away from his parents, becoming a foster parent, and getting custody of the young boy. In the end, though, everything had worked out and now David finally has a use for the empty guest room in his apartment. Despite this, Max was clearly still adjusting - he just wasn’t used to being cared for. He still acted surprised and suspicious every time David did something nice for him, still hid behind his detached facade, still refused to open up to David. It’s a work in progress, David supposes.

 

David slowly pushes open the door just wide enough for him to peek in and check on him. The dim glow of Max’s night light reveals an empty bed, however, and David frowns. A soft noise from the kitchen grabs his attention. Maybe Max had gone for a glass of water?

 

He pads quietly into the kitchen. The light above the oven is always left on during the night, allowing David to spot Max. He’s standing atop one of the kitchen chairs that he’d dragged over to the counter in order to reach the cabinet above him. One hand is rummaging around in the cabinet, and the other is stuffing a granola bar into the pocket of his hoodie, which is bulging so much that David wonders just how many snacks are in there. “Max?” he questions, stepping into the kitchen.

 

Max startles at his voice, drawing his hand back from the cabinet like he’s been burned, still clutching another granola bar, and whipping around to face David so quickly that the man is worried he might fall. “I, uh, shit-”

 

David is far too tired to correct Max on his language - and far too concerned. “What are you doing?” Max doesn’t respond, remaining frozen on the chair. He stares at David with wide eyes, and even in the dingy light, David can see the fear in them. He steps over to Max, not missing the way he tenses up, and simply lifts him beneath his armpits and sets him gently down on the floor. “You shouldn’t be climbing on things, you might fall,” he says.

 

Max stares up at David for a moment longer before shoving the granola bar in his hand at David. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for once he sounds genuine. “Please don’t be mad.”

 

It’s David’s turn to look surprised. “Mad?” Max is gazing at the floor now, and David can see how rigid he is. He kneels down in front of him. “Max, look at me,” he requests softly. Max hesitates for a moment, but complies. “I’m not mad,” David assures him. “Of course I’m not mad. I’m just worried.”

 

“I- what?”

 

“Am I not feeding you enough? Do you not like my cooking?” David asks, genuine concern in his voice.

 

“Um.” Max shuffles, unsure. “It’s not, uh- I like your cooking,” he blurts. “It’s good.”

 

David frowns. “Then why don’t you eat more?”

 

Max shifts uncomfortably again. He looks away, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “It’s just, back with my parents…” he trails off, but David understands.

 

“Oh, Max.” He reaches out to place a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “Things are different here. You don’t need to feel guilty asking for seconds, thirds, or even fourths… and you don’t ever have to worry about not having a nice, warm meal in front of you.”

 

Max searches his faces for a moment, and David offers him a small smile. He’s shocked when Max lunges forward to hug him, but is quick to wrap his gangly arms around the child in return. “Thank you,” Max murmurs, hands gripping the back of David’s shirt tightly.

 

“You’re welcome, Max,” David says softly, giving Max a quick squeeze. When Max pulls away, his eyes are shiny and he sniffles, wiping them with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Now, then,” David announces, standing up and placing his hands on his hips. “Are you hungry?”

 

Max shrugs. “A little, I guess,” he admits. Suddenly, his stomach rumbles loudly in the silence of the kitchen and he looks up at David, embarrassed.

 

David only ruffles his hair and moves to the refrigerator. “How do last night’s leftovers sound?” he asks, looking back over his shoulder to Max. Max nods in approval, and David sets to work taking the containers out and putting the leftovers in the microwave to warm up.

 

Once the microwave is going, his attention is drawn back to Max, who is pulling all the snacks he’d stashed in his pocket out and piling them onto the counter. Wordlessly, David begins putting them back in their respective places. “I, um, have more in my room,” Max confesses once his pocket is empty.

 

“That’s okay. Just promise me you’ll eat more, okay? It’s not healthy to just be eating mostly snacks,” David replies, opening the microwave once it beeps. He grabs a fork and brings the food over, setting down in front of Max, who’d dragged the chair back over to the table to sit down.

 

“Thanks. And yeah, okay. I will,” Max agrees, taking a bite of his food. David pulls out a chair and sits with him, smiling.

 

A work in progress indeed.


End file.
